Bless these hands
Protect the land
find the design of mind is soul’s reminder that we are but a twinkle in the sand
Whimsical impulses bombastically pull and convulse until stimulation ignites the tribulations of ego and the false
Yet in truth it is a revealing of time’s “bones”
Nature’s healing the dealing of aches and moans generations concerned with the sounds of their groans than the balance of tone
Perhaps we actually become aware when we’re alone and see the illusion as a ride on the tide of infinity and not a hinderance to our divinity
And that at least in this dimension nothing is permanent and only change is the constant  that gravity and reality proceed from